Waves
by Irene T447
Summary: "How had it come to this exactly? Why did that crucial decision have to decide her fate to be a miserable one?" Angsty fic. Tetra misses her life at sea. Modern AU. Writing prompt: Deck hand or librarian?


Tetra's love was being out at sea.

She loved those painted early morning sunrises that would caress the waves, wrapped in a lined poncho, bitter coffee hand. She loved those days so hot she could feel the salty sting of waves crashing down, spraying blistering sun burnt skin with soothing cool. Nights so cold, she had to curl up, shivering below deck, all the while rocking to Mother Nature's most maternal lullaby.

She loved the scent of briny air, how it liberated her from the perils of working as a deck hand. It tugged at her long, unruly blonde hair like that annoying, loveable friend. It brought winds and rains and tempests so powerful, even an atheist would pray to all three goddesses, humbling her spirit yet lighting a fire in her soul.

She loved the feeling of lines in her hands, the routine rigging and de-rigging mechanics of old cargo hauls and barges. The weather hardened cords and stays her security; like the sinews of her own muscles, they were a part of her.

It was that mixed scent of old wood, cleaning supplies, and plastics below deck, both strikingly familiar and discernible, that would call to mind camaraderie, community; her crew.

She lived for those ever elusive moments, when the salt taste on the air was just sweet enough, and the cyclic waves rhythmic to the music on board. When the expanse of blue infinity expanded to the end of the world. When time was inconsequential. When she felt as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Living. Being. Perfection.

It was during those moments she knew her only love affair would be with the water.

So where was she now?

Long oak desks, work study. Row upon loquacious row of over-cracked book bindings, the musky scent of old glue and paper. Low murmurs, a constant buzzing hum like an underground hornet's nest.

Too little; too busy; too much quiet and not enough doing.

Pages flipping between calloused fingers, twitching. A sigh. Another sigh to give companionship to the other. Seconds span on and on and on….

She desperately wants to get out of this mess. The back office's AC machine howls above her head with a dreadful monotony. She wants to throw a book at it – put it out of its misery.

Her cousin, Zelda, sits beside her, happily cataloguing, inputting jumbles of letters and numbers into decade old computer. The brunette's demeanor is calm and content, as if being imprisoned within walls of books is a pleasure.

To each their own. Tetra snaps her catalogue shut, Zelda's head turns.

"You're done already? Mind helping me?"

"No, thank you very much. I need some air."

Tetra removes herself from an awkward stool and stretches. Zelda glances over to Tetra's piles and puts on a look of maternal scolding, which is hilarious because Tetra is actually a couple of years older.

"That's not how the Dewey Decimal System works," She points out, "Are you feeling alright? You've been restless all week. Everyone's been noticing, not just me. You'll get in trouble at this rate, so you might as well get what's on your chest out."

Tetra plops herself back onto her stool with a reluctant growl.

"If you had to spend the rest of your life as either a deck hand or a librarian, which would you choose?" She asks, tossing a book at the wall to watch it bounce, just for her own amusement.

Zelda takes the book away promptly, "Librarian of course. I've worked hard to get here, same as you. Now, are you going to treat these with the respect they deserve, or will you be searching your rather shallow pockets to reimburse the system for its losses."

Tetra groans, pressing the heels of her hands to sore eyelids. Yeah, sure she'd accidentally been a bit rough with some of the audio materials, but she certainly did not intend to repeat that particular fiasco.

Zelda begins speaking to her again, and Tetra pretends to listen to her with half-closed eyelids and a slack jaw. The brunette's words sounded something like this:

"Blah-blah-_prestigious_-blah. Yadah-yadah-_university _-yadah. Blabity-blah-blah –_once in a lifetime opportunity that you went to _school_ for, silly, - _blah, yadah_ – contracts- _blah –"  
>"I get it," Tetra cuts over Zelda's ramblings about things she really didn't care about anymore, "You've given me this talk before. Twice, I might add."<p>

"Well, it obviously didn't come across the first two times I gave it – and where do you think you're going?"

"I told you," Tetra deadpans, making her way to the arched narrow door, "I need air. See you in five – no, make that ten. I gotta pee."

"Uh, okay…?" Zelda makes a couple flustered gestures, "Your shift literally just started, but I'll cover." She says this with a face that broadcasts concern.

"Yeah, thanks," the blonde tosses over her shoulder as she saunters out of the back office and into the library's spacious antechamber. She flings open the swinging glass doors and continues out in the relentless sunlight down a sidewalk out of Zelda's view.

A month ago, she'd resigned as a deck hand. At the time, she'd felt okay about it. It was actually pretty grueling work compared to working in a library. It put her at risk for a host of sicknesses and a buffet of injuries to choose from. As far as stable employment goes, well, the library looked better and when she did the math, actually paid better too.

She kicks a couple of loose rocks from the path leading down to the docks. She totally lied about needing to pee. She did want to relieve herself, but in a different way.

Sometimes, she felt like the library's close proximity to the ocean was torture. Other times, a friendly reminder. Sometimes she would fantasize about stowing away on a barge, although logic told her it was a fast track way to being arrested.

She walks out onto one of the piers and sits down, cross-legged, peering out over the lapping expanse of ocean. She can feel the gentle ocean breezes tugging at her hair, the salty rhyme of the sea. A part of her rejoices; a part of her grieves.

She remembers how earlier this summer she and Zelda had applied to be the librarians to Gaepora's great library, which fed into the university system. One day, she and Zelda were called into Gaepora's cinnamon scented office for a cup of tea and a chat.

She can see so clearly Gaepora's lumbering form as he owlishly stared out at both she and Zelda with the offer of a lifetime. Tetra's mind was made up, shutting out the rancorous screams of her heart protesting "NO!". Excited green eyes met hers, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Squeals of delight. "Won't this be fun? You and me, together, Tetra!"

How had it come to this exactly? Why did that crucial decision have to decide her fate to be a miserable one?

Of course, it wasn't until she gave her notice at the piers did anyone do a formal check to determine if she had been on the ships legally to begin with. Incidentally, the old supervisor gave her a rating a year before it was legal, and that fact alone was enough to have her banned from working on any Hylian vessel for the rest of her life.

She watches the waves with a feeling like she's drifting away from something important.

The funny thing about water was how it gave the illusion of constancy, while in reality it was the essence of change. Never again do two waves meet after parting.

She feels as if she's letting go, not of opportunity, adventure, escapism, but of a part of herself.

That part of herself that will always be one with the sea.


End file.
